Why "Submission" Became a Dirty Word (And How to Reclaim It)

Submission is actually a beautiful word when it's not used against you.

Let me say that again, because it's important: Submission is a beautiful word when it's not weaponized, demanded, or forced.

The problem isn't the word itself. The problem is what we've done with it. The problem is how it's been twisted, manipulated, and used as a tool of control in countless Christian homes.

I've heard from hundreds of women—and men—who flinch when they hear the word "submission." And honestly? I understand why. For many of them, submission has meant the death of their voice, the suppression of their gifts, the slow erosion of their sense of self.

They've been told that submission is God's design for them. That if they just submit more, trust more, obey more, everything will work out. That resistance to their husband's authority is resistance to God Himself.

And when the system breaks down—when submission leads to abuse, when obedience leads to harm, when trust is betrayed—they're left wondering if something is wrong with them. If they just didn't submit well enough. If they failed the test.

But here's the truth: The problem was never with them. The problem was with how submission was defined and demanded in the first place.

The Power of Mutuality

Let me share something crucial that often gets overlooked in discussions about submission.

Think about sexual intimacy in marriage. When both partners are focused on each other's pleasure, when both are thinking about the other's needs and desires, when both are giving and receiving freely—it's beautiful. It's what God intended. It creates genuine connection and oneness.

But if one person demands their own way, if one person takes what they want without regard for the other's consent or comfort or pleasure—that's not intimacy. That's violence. That's a fundamental violation of trust and personhood.

The same physical act can be either beautiful or deeply harmful, depending on one crucial factor: mutuality.

Are both people freely choosing? Are both people giving and receiving? Are both people honoring each other's humanity and agency?

When the answer is yes, it's love. When the answer is no, it's a violation of everything intimacy is meant to be.

The same principle applies to submission.

When I yield to Gregory and Gregory yields to me, when we're both submitting to each other out of love and respect, it creates something beautiful. It creates unity. You can't be truly one without melding together in a dance of mutual giving and receiving.

One-way submission doesn't create the Kingdom force of circular mutual love. It creates the hierarchical force of the world's broken systems. It mirrors domination, not the divine dance of the Trinity.

When Submission Removes Freedom

Here's a crucial truth that gets overlooked in most teaching on submission: The moment you demand something from someone and take away their freedom to choose, you remove love from the equation.

Love, by its very nature, requires freedom. You cannot force someone to love you. You cannot coerce genuine affection. You cannot mandate authentic care.

You can demand obedience. You can compel compliance. You can manipulate behavior through fear or guilt or obligation. But you cannot create love that way.

This is why demanding submission is such a perversion of God's design. When a husband says, "The Bible commands you to submit to me," he's essentially saying, "You don't have a choice." And the moment she doesn't have a choice, her submission isn't love anymore. It's just survival.

Sadly, submission has been used this way in many Christian homes. Men have wielded the word of God like a weapon, using Scripture to control their wives, to silence dissent, to get their own way. They've used theological language to dress up what is essentially domination.

"God says you have to submit to me." "I'm the head of this house." "You're being rebellious." "You need to trust God's design."

These phrases sound spiritual. They sound biblical. But when they're used to shut down a wife's voice, to dismiss her concerns, to force her compliance—they're nothing more than spiritual abuse.

Because love requires freedom. And submission without freedom isn't submission at all. It's coercion.

Mutual vs. One-Way Submission

Let me paint two different pictures of submission and you tell me which one sounds more like God's Kingdom.

Picture One: One-Way Submission

The wife submits to the husband. She defers to his decisions. She follows his lead. She trusts his judgment. When they disagree, his perspective wins. When there's conflict, she's the one who bends. She's told this is her role, her calling, God's design for her as a woman.

The husband makes decisions. He provides direction. He exercises authority. He's responsible for the family, so he gets final say. He loves his wife, of course, but love means taking care of her, protecting her, guiding her. He's the head; she's the helper.

Picture Two: Mutual Submission

Both spouses submit to each other. When he has an insight, she honors it. When she has wisdom, he honors it. They both defer to each other's strengths. They both listen carefully to each other's concerns. When they disagree, they keep talking, keep praying, keep seeking wisdom together until they reach consensus. Neither one's perspective automatically wins. Neither one always bends. They both yield. They both serve. They both lay down their lives for each other.

Which picture sounds more like Jesus washing His disciples' feet?

Which picture sounds more like "do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves" (Philippians 2:3, ESV)—a command given to all believers, not just wives?

Which picture sounds more like the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in perfect mutual submission to one another, each honoring the others, each pouring out love in an eternal circle of divine dancing?

The answer is obvious when you put it that way. But somehow, when we talk about marriage, we forget the basic principles of Kingdom relationships that apply everywhere else.

The Extra Mile Strategy

So if Paul wasn't endorsing patriarchy when he told wives to submit, what was he doing?

He was teaching the oppressed how to rise above their oppression.

Think about it: In the first century Roman world, wives didn't have a choice about submission. Neither did slaves. The law required it. Society demanded it. They could comply or face severe consequences. They had no power to change the system.

But Paul does something brilliant. He takes these positions of powerlessness and shows believers how to transform them into positions of power.

To the wives and slaves, he essentially says: "Yes, you have to submit under this oppressive system. You don't have the power to change that reality right now. But you can choose how you submit. You can rise above mere obligation and operate in your own free will. You can go the extra mile—not because you're forced to, but because you're choosing to."

This is what Jesus meant when He said, "If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles" (Matthew 5:41, NIV). Roman soldiers could legally compel civilians to carry their gear for one mile. You didn't have a choice about that first mile. But the second mile? That was yours. That was your choice. That was your power.

When you're operating under compulsion, you're a victim. But when you exceed the requirement by your own free will, you're exercising agency. You're taking back your power.

That's what Paul is teaching wives and slaves. He's saying: "You have to submit anyway. The system demands it. But you can choose to submit as unto the Lord—not as a defeated slave, but as a free person choosing to honor God in a difficult situation."

This wasn't endorsement of their oppression. This was a strategy for maintaining dignity and agency within oppression.

And here's what's crucial: Paul never tells husbands or masters to demand submission. He never says, "Husbands, make sure your wives submit." He never says, "Masters, enforce obedience."

Instead, he tells husbands to lay down their lives. He tells masters to treat slaves with justice and equality, "knowing that you also have a Master in heaven" (Colossians 4:1, ESV). He's telling the powerful to use their power not to maintain control but to create equality.

Two Whole People

Here's something else that often gets missed: Mutual submission requires two whole people.

You cannot submit to someone who is trying to absorb you. You cannot become one with someone who insists you disappear into their identity. You cannot dance with someone who refuses to move.

I've seen marriages where the husband understands oneness as "she becomes part of me." Where unity means she adopts all his preferences, his opinions, his way of doing things. Where "we" really just means "I, plus her cooperation."

That's not oneness. That's assimilation.

Look at the Trinity again. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are so united that Jesus could say, "I and the Father are one" (John 10:30, ESV). But that oneness doesn't erase their distinct persons. The Father is not the Son. The Son is not Holy Spirit. They remain beautifully, completely differentiated even in their perfect unity.

That's the model. Oneness without loss of personhood. Unity with full preservation of individual identity, voice, calling, and gifts.

In practical terms, this means that for mutual submission to work, both people need to be healthy, whole individuals. Both need to have a sense of self that isn't dependent on the other's approval. Both need to be able to say, "This is what I think," "This is what I feel," "This is what God is calling me to"—without fear of punishment or rejection.

My Gregory has never tried to make me smaller so he could feel bigger. He's never demanded I diminish my gifts, quiet my voice, or subordinate my calling to his. Instead, he consistently lifts me up, encourages me to be and do all that God has put in my heart—even when that includes teaching the world that men don't have a God-given right to rule over women.

That's what secure, whole people do. They don't need to control or dominate to feel valuable. They find their identity in Christ, and from that secure foundation, they're free to submit to each other without fear.

Vulnerability and Risk

I want to be honest about something: Mutual submission doesn't come with guarantees.

You can choose to lay your life down for your spouse. You can choose to initiate submission, to serve first, to yield your preferences. But that doesn't guarantee they'll respond in kind.

There's risk involved. There's vulnerability. You might pour yourself out in love and not receive the same in return—at least not immediately. You might humble yourself and find your humility exploited. You might submit and find that submission taken for granted rather than reciprocated.

This is especially true if you're married to someone who's been taught that your submission is their right rather than your gift. If your spouse believes they're entitled to your obedience, they might not recognize the beauty of what you're offering. They might just keep taking.

And here's the hard truth: There is no act of greatness without vulnerability. Vulnerability requires risk and uncertainty. Just because you're willing to initiate and lay your life down doesn't guarantee the other person will heal enough or mature enough to do the same.

It takes two whole people to make mutual submission work. Two healed people. Two people who are secure enough in Christ to risk loving without controlling.

So what do you do if you're ready for mutual submission but your spouse isn't? What if you're willing to dance but they're still trying to lead—or worse, trying to make you dance alone?

I don't have easy answers. Every situation is different. But I can tell you this: You cannot force someone into Kingdom reality. You cannot demand that they treat you as an equal. You cannot coerce mutual submission.

What you can do is pray. What you can do is maintain your own wholeness in Christ. What you can do is set healthy boundaries that protect you from abuse while leaving room for growth and change. What you can do is live out Kingdom principles as fully as possible within your circumstances.

And sometimes, honestly, you need outside help—counseling, pastoral support, trusted friends who can help you navigate the complexity of loving someone who isn't yet ready to love you the way Christ loves the church.

Reclaiming Submission

So how do we reclaim this beautiful word that's been so badly abused?

We start by telling the truth about what it is and what it isn't.

Submission is:

• A gift freely given, not a right to be demanded

• Mutual, flowing in all directions within the Body of Christ

• An expression of strength, not weakness

• A choice made from freedom, not compliance forced by fear

• A way of honoring others while maintaining your own voice and dignity

Submission is not:

• A command for wives only

• Permission for husbands to control or dominate

• Silence in the face of sin or abuse

• The loss of your personality, gifts, or calling

• Proof of spiritual maturity when it's coerced

When we understand submission this way—as a beautiful, mutual practice that creates unity without destroying individuality—we can begin to heal from the damage done by distorted teaching.

We can begin to see that God never intended submission to silence us. He intended it to unite us.

We can begin to understand that when Paul said, "Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ" (Ephesians 5:21, ESV), he meant exactly what he said: one another. Not just wives to husbands. Not just employees to bosses. Not just younger to older.

One another. Mutually. Reciprocally. In the circular dance of Kingdom love.

The Beauty Restored

I want to leave you with a picture of what submission looks like when it's practiced the way God intended.

Picture a couple dancing. Really dancing—not one person stiffly leading while the other follows, but both moving together in fluid response to the music and to each other. One might initiate a turn, but the other completes it. One might dip, but the other provides the support. They're constantly reading each other, responding to each other, moving as one even though they're two distinct people.

That's mutual submission. That's the divine dancing of Kingdom relationships.

When Gregory wraps his arms around me and shares what he heard from the Lord that morning, he's not exercising authority over me. He's inviting me into intimacy with God and with him. When he serves at the food bank, giving himself to people who can never repay him, he's not diminishing himself. He's reflecting Christ. When he supports my calling to write and teach about biblical equality, he's not weak. He's strong enough to value my voice as much as his own.

And when I honor his insights, when I yield to his wisdom in areas where he has more experience, when I support his calling even though it means financial sacrifice—I'm not being subordinate. I'm being a partner. I'm participating in the dance.

This is what submission was always meant to be. Not a weapon used to control. Not a burden placed on the powerless. Not a way to maintain hierarchy.

But a gift—freely given, mutually exchanged, creating unity without destroying diversity, producing strength through vulnerability, releasing the transforming power of Christ into every relationship where it's practiced.

That's the beauty we need to reclaim. That's the truth we need to speak. That's the Kingdom reality we're invited to live.

Submission is a beautiful word.

Let's start using it that way.

Blessings,
Susan 😊

Has your understanding of submission been shaped by abuse or control? Or have you experienced the freedom and beauty of mutual submission? Your story matters, and I'd love to hear it in the comments. We're all on this journey together.